


Our Lips Are Sealed

by over_the_sun



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: But Peter doesn't know, Coach Wilson doesn't care about them, Detention, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, High School, Ned Leed is a good friend, Spideychelle, jock!Peter, more like rivals to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28552518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/over_the_sun/pseuds/over_the_sun
Summary: She’s not into gossip but Betty aches for them. She says it’s part of being a good journalist, being aware of the current events, so she knows that since Liz Allan moved for college a year ago, Peter has been doing nothing more than looking for a new object of affection, to call it someway, and a lot of people became aware of certain… talents that he poses.
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 21
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jsscshvlr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jsscshvlr/gifts).



> For the lovely Jess! I hope this is a good enough present for you. I'm very glad I've got the chance to meet you through this fandom and I hope you have the happiest birthday!! ♥
> 
> p.s.: thanks Jill [(coykoi)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coykoi/works) for helping me with grammar!

_ “Psss...Michelle...hey.” _

She is doing her best to ignore the incessant, annoying noise coming from her right, the voice of her classmate, instead focusing her eyes on the book laying on her lap that she carefully picked this morning before leaving for school and pretending to be reading attentively. But he is clearly not catching the drift. 

“Michelle…” he keeps trying “MJ!” 

“Don’t. Don’t call me MJ, Parker,” she says finally giving in. “Only my friends call me that and you are not” she punctuates, throwing a dead glare his way and then resuming her lecture. 

“Oh, come on. I wanna give you a compliment,” he says pouting. But his dumb “compliments” are what put them in this situation in the first place. 

She’s not looking at him but there’s no need to, she knows him well enough. 

They’ve been classmates for four years now, their schedules always aligning perfectly given the similarities in their knowledge and interests. She never had a problem with him until sophomore year when he had a sudden growth spurt. 

It wasn’t unexpected. They were at the age of it, but it was fast and obvious. One day Peter Parker was this scrawny sci-fi lover who wore thick framed glasses and science pun t-shirts and struggled with running a meter without fainting or going into an asthma attack. And the next week, after an awful flu, he comes back to school a head taller with thick shoulders and bulging biceps that strain on the shirts that are no longer funny or dorky but kind of hot and he decides to join the football team. And who used to be a humble and quiet regular nerd becomes a loud, obnoxious, arrogant jock. (Ned does not agree with her but he is too kind.) 

It’s not that he is bad, he doesn’t bully anyone, he keeps on being friends with Ned even when they run on completely different stratospheres. And he’s still keeping up with his grades quite well, managing to balance his occupied agenda of parties and football matches with the day to day academy issues.

She knows for a fact that he would be the valedictorian if it wasn’t for her, he is smart like that, she’s been keeping tracks on him since day one (not because she is obsessed, she just needs to know her competition).

What bothers Michelle the most, is that he’s made his life goal to bother her. 

Senior year was supposed to be good for Michelle as she had assured her college acceptance (Harvard is thrilled to welcome her next year, their words not hers). As a captain she led the Academic Decathlon team to their fourth consecutive winning, has a nice group of friends with whom she can hang out, and attended many more parties that the previous years (ok, previous years number was zero, but still.) 

But Peter doesn’t let her enjoy herself like she wants to. He seems to be everywhere she goes at any time, and the fact that they share Ned’s friendship causes her to need to tolerate him on their movie nights, even when he’s supposed to be out and partying with his other jock friends. He invades her personal space with his stupid muscles and perfect curls and she can’t stand him. 

So today, when he peeked over her shoulder to see what she was doodling in one of her sketchbooks during Mrs. Thompson’s class, she just couldn't take it anymore. It was definitely not her intention -she just wanted to tell him to  _ fuck off- _ but when Michelle lifted up her head quickly to insult him, he was much closer than she thought and the back of her head ended up colliding with his mouth, causing an awful cut and some cursing on his part. She didn’t regret it. 

Ok, she regretted a little when a "Fuck" and “Well, you deserved it for being an asshole” put them both in detention. 

It’s a classic in a school of overachievers that the detention room is empty and that Coach Wilson uses that time to listen to Celine Dion or to sleep or both, like today.

So now Peter is sitting too close to her (clearly he has not learned his lesson) with a pouty mouth caused by her rejection of his “complimenting” and a cut lip (shouldn’t it be more wounded? how does he even heal so fast?)

“Michelle” he tries again and she wonders how many more detention hours would cost her if she just cuts his tongue off. “Mi…”

“What?!” she barks and their chaperone snores loudly “What the hell do you want Parker?”

“You look pretty,” he answers with a winning grin and an arrogant wink. 

Michelle rolls her eyes annoyed, not at his words but at the effect it has on her. The way her toes curl inside her shoes and how her heart skips a beat. She’s sure that if she had the complexion for it, she’ll be red as a tomato right now. 

This is another problem Michelle has with his constant presence, the compliments and subtle hand or waist touches he does on her because she wants to hate him badly, but her treacherous body has other ideas, speeding up her heartbeat and increasing her temperature, making her brain fuzzy.

“Might work on anyone else, but not with me, dude,” MJ says proudly. Like a liar.

She tries to go back once more to reading but he covers the page with his hand. 

She only spares one moment to look at it, his short nails and long fingers, the bony knuckles and the popping tendons, his hands are big and soft looking. She’s a little amazed with the knowledge that the same hands that trinker with computers with delicacy and precision, also are strong enough to throw a ball across the field. 

“Anyone else? What does that even mean?” Peter interrogates confusion written all over his frowned forehead. 

“You know you have a reputation,” she says. 

It’s true, not that she really cares. She’s not into gossip but Betty aches for them. She says it’s part of being a good journalist, being aware of the current events, so she knows that since Liz Allan moved for college a year ago, Peter has been doing nothing more than looking for a new object of affection, to call it someway, and a lot of people became aware of certain… talents that he poses. 

He scoffs a laugh and something like hurt passes behind his eyes but he covers it up quickly, dropping his eyes down to his lap and avoiding her gaze. When he looks up again a mischievous gleam shines in his eyes.

“Never heard of a reputation. Please, enlighten me.” 

He’s playing with her, she knows it and even though she should just tell him to shut up, she replies. 

“You are a flirt.” 

“Yeah, ok. What else?” 

“You are not defending yourself?” she asks curiously, thinking he’d put more of a fight into it.

“I know I flirt, I wanna know what else the bad tongues say.” 

She laughs at his interesting use of words. 

“You have a way with your mouth,” she says, trying (but most likely failing) to be casual about it.

“A way with my mouth? Should I join the debate club?” Peter says faking a confused look and getting closer, leaning his arm on the back of her chair. 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Michelle looks at her sleeping teacher, trying to avoid Peter’s gaze and doing her best to ignore the way his closeness seems to warm her up.

“Tell me,” he says and licks his lips.

“You are a good kisser.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“That’s what they say.”

“But you don’t know that,” he shrugs and moves one of the curls that freed itself from her ponytail behind her ear and whispers there. “Do you wanna know, Michelle?” 

She can’t answer because well, yes she wants to, but also they are in detention so they shouldn’t.

“He’s asleep,” he continues, reading her mind. “Don’t you wanna know if the rumors are right? Aren’t you a truth seeker, Michelle?” 

And she should stop him, she really must push his face away from hers and move to a different chair on a far corner of the class room and focus on ending her book that was (until he started putting ideas in her mind), a pretty distraction. But instead she leans a little on him, her shoulder pressing against his firm chest and closes her eyes. 

He seems to take the bait because next thing she knows, he is burying the fingers of the hand lying on the chair behind her on the space between her shoulders and dropping a scatter of small kisses along her jaw. 

“Can I keep going, Michelle?” 

She doesn’t waste her words on an answer, not really sure if she lost the ability to talk now, and presses a curious peck into his mouth. Michelle is really a truth seeker and hates rumors… and she is also a seventeen year old with crazy hormones who is insanely attracted to Peter Parker—even if he is an arrogant ass. 

Peter wastes no time and pulls her back in, tangling his hand on her curls. He tilts his head in the right angle but bumps her nose in a tender gesture on the way, and then traps her bottom lip between his. His lip feels soft but demanding and she gets lost on the feeling. 

The kiss is sweet and it surprises Michelle in a good way, her previous experiences -the one time she engaged in seven minutes in heaven at one of Flash’s parties- were… bad. The guy pushed his tongue into her mouth with no warning and just left it there in her mouth while his lips pressed with too much force into hers. Terrible experience. 10/10 would not recommend it. 

This instead, well, when Peter’s tongue brushes softly on her trapped bottom lip, almost like asking for permission. She opens her mouth with contentment and her hands move willingly—one to his elbow while the other mirrors his and grabs a fist of his soft brown curls. 

Michelle can hear her heart beating in her ears and nothing else. It’s like every outside noise has been blocked and her only sense still functioning is touch. All she feels is Peter.  _ Peter. Peter.  _ Peter, everywhere sending tingles from the back of her neck to her toes - making her grateful for being seated because otherwise her knees would have given out by now- nibbling her lips, probably making them red and swollen, snaking a hand underneath her shirt to touch directly at her skin and pulling her to his lap. 

The moment she stands to move from the hard school chair to Peter’s muscular but much more appealing thighs, the forgotten book lying on her lap drops with a strenuous sound that echoes on the empty room.

It takes them out of their haze and wakes up their unassuming teacher. Coach Wilson’s gaze jumps between Peter and her - she hopes that the impromptu make out session that just happened isn’t too obvious to his eyes- and finally settles on the clock behind them. 

“Ok, detention is over. Get out of here.”

Michelle is thankful for their teacher's uninterest and lets out a breath she didn’t notice was holding. 

“So… am I at the height of the rumors?” Peter asks low, even if Mr. Wilson is back to Celine Dion already.

“You did ok,” she huffs with fake indignation.

“Oh, I can do so much better than ok, Michelle,” Peter fights back.

He is clearly offering a second chance by the way his hand moves under the desks to grab her knee. 

Looking at him with his tousled hair, faint blushed cheeks and dark red lips (and knowing she must look as disheveled as he is), Michelle has zero doubt that, for once, rumors are true and she has a lot of catching up to do. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Still, she swears to herself that it won’t happen again._
> 
> _That deep determination dies, two days later, in one free period._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long. I hope it's a nice ending for this birthday present!

_ “And we are back to the game! Midtown is destroying Eastwood! Go, Tigers!”  _

Jason always gets super enthusiastic narrating the matches. Michelle hears the way Betty puffs in annoyance at his lack of professionalism and can picture her friend in her head chastising Jason for not being impartial. 

This is not Michelle's first attendance to a football match, although it’s the first she comes to on her own will —she attributes it to Ned’s insistence if someone asks— so she knows that her school’s team golden boy is not in his right mind today. Otherwise, the score wouldn’t be so close to a draw. 

She’s very observative, all these years watching  Peter school games Michelle collected a big amount of information. The most relevant at the moment is that over the years Peter Parker has developed a way to stick his hands to the ball so tight that makes it impossible for anyone who's able to catch him —because he’s the fastest member, — to take it away from him. Today he lost his grip ten times. And they are only halfway through. 

The coach is starting to sweat and his teammates, though capable, are starting to panic. The other team can feel it, and they are taking advantage of it. Michelle thinks it’s  stupid, statistically, one out of five times Peter tries to downgrade his game potential, this has to be the case. The other option makes no sense to her. 

* * *

_ After detention MJ doesn’t stop Peter when he starts walking by her side on her way to the bus stop. Even when it’s not his path she considers it’s a nice enough spring day to take a long route or whatever if he wants to. They don’t talk. Her mind still feels dizzy with the kisses and the adrenaline, so she’s not able to refuse when midway he pulls her behind a big three to make out. It feels much more appropriate and even away from the danger to get caught she feels some kind of thrill for doing it, a little flip in her stomach.  _

_ Still, she swears to herself that it won’t happen again. _

_ That deep determination dies, two days later, in one free period.  _

_ She loves these moments of peace when she can hide under the bleachers, reading and relishing the warm spring breeze and the quietness of it all. Michelle doesn’t count on Peter skipping English for the sake of getting acquainted with her neck and collarbones and her hands with the hard planes of his back, nor the hickey he leaves on the spot where the neck meets the shoulder right when she lets out a breathy “Peter” that gets him a little over-enthusiastic. _

_ Later that week, when he walks her home after a movie marathon at Ned’s —which she considers a risky move because Ned could get suspicious, but she lets him nonetheless—. Peter asks her to go to her favorite bookstore the next day, so he can buy a gift to impress this girl “he likes, and it’s too smart”. Michelle thinks it’s a little mean considering her lips still tickle from the kisses they shared on the way, but she accepts.  _

_ That afternoon at the library is fun, they roam around the bookshelves and laugh over a silly game of guessing the plot of the books by only looking at the cover images. It feels nice dropping the hating facade, and he pulls a pretty smile when she shares her twisted ideas. When Peter tries to reach a book on the top shelf she decides to corner him there and kiss him silly instead of making fun of his stature.  _

_ It works fabulously, his mind so blurry and distracted that he ends up buying her another copy -this one hardcover- of “Gone Girl” instead of the gift for the mystery girl. _

_ It’s riveting all the secret kisses, furtive glances, and footsie under lunch tables. She’s living for these stolen moments and the look on Peter’s face when they are together. When someone else is around they act like before, Michelle throwing harmless insults his way and Peter shrugging it off with a cocky response and a killer smile. It’s great until it’s not anymore.  _

_ They are studying at Peter’s. Ned sitting in front of them distressed by the injustice of their Spanish homework when, out of nowhere, Peter tries to hold her hand. On top of the table.  _

_ She moves it quickly, grateful for their unaware best friend but catching a glimpse of the hurt that crosses Peter’s eyes.  _

_ The sentence “a knot in her throat” didn’t make much sense to her until that moment.  _

_ “Ok, I’m done,” Ned rubs a hand over his face and starts putting his thing in his backpack. “You want me to walk you home?” he asks her. _

_ “No, my dad’s picking me up in five,” she lies.  _

_ This is one of the hardest things about this… —relationship? Arrangement?— thing they have. She’s not used to lying, even if sometimes she comes across as harsh and discourteous, telling the truth is one of her life mottos and lying to her best friend makes her feel disloyal.  _

_ “Ok. See you tomorrow guys.” _

_ Ned leaves after doing that crazy over-complicated handshake with Peter, and they sit there in silence.  _

_ Peter is not meeting her eye, playing with a blue pen between his fingers, and pretending to read attentively the book open in front of him. She swallows her nerves and leans on his side to kiss his cheek.  _

_ It’s a practiced move at this point, whenever he gets too much into his head or feels too stressed or gets one of those strong headaches, she kisses a path from his cheek to his jaw and then bites softly but confidently the spot under his ear, dragging a low groan from his lips.  _

_ It doesn’t work this time. Peter moves away the moment her lips brush his skin, and he finally looks up, a hurt in his eyes that she thinks  _ she _ should be feeling by the rejection she just suffered.  _

_ “Why don’t you let me hold your hand?” Peter inquiries. _

_ She shakes her head and huffs out a laugh, “Ned was here”.  _

_ Her answer seems to be what he was expecting but not what he wanted to hear.  _

_ “Ok,” he says. His face scrunching up in something that looks dangerously close to pain and has never been seen on him. The clock ticking on the kitchen wall seems too loud with the silence that stretches until he speaks again. “Do you want to go to the after-match party with me?”  _

_ It's the fake confidence that tarnishes his tone that makes her tense.  _

_ Michelle wants to say “yes”, she’s a breath away from it when her brain starts to work. She thinks about that time he asked for help to impress a girl and how dumb she’ll look when he dumps her there in favor of another. Beside, what Ned would think of them, two liars pretending to hate each other on his face but kissing behind his back, he’ll hate them, and she can’t afford that. “No.”  _

_ "Are you ashamed of being seen with me?" There's a heaviness in his words that drops right on her shoulders, slouching her down. _

_ It's the pain of being falsely accused that makes her say the wrong thing. "Wouldn't you with your reputation?" _

_ Peter is about to protest, his mouth opening and hand reaching for her when his door opens and May enters with arms full of grocery bags and asking for help. Michelle takes that time to fly away before he can make a case with his asking out.  _

* * *

_ “Tonight we are fighting for the championship. There’s still ten minutes left on the clock anyone could win…”  _

Betty’s anguished voice takes her away from her thoughts. Midtown is still winning but only by two points. Ned is jumping in his seat, screaming Peter’s name like a mad man, she has to hold back to not do the same. 

How silly it’ll be if she starts cheering for his name when she’s been running away and hiding from him for two days? 

One of Eastwood’s players' scores again and all the Midtown tribune groans. The scores change and there are only two points between teams. 

The ref whistles and Peter runs to the benches to drink some water, when he takes off his helmet his gaze drifts to her. A chill runs down her spine, no breeze but the downturn of his lips and the obvious sadness in his eyes causing it. 

“What’s going on with him?” She turns to Ned, frowning at her, asking for an answer she can’t give him. She shrugs noncommittally. 

Michelle sees something dance behind his always sincere eyes like he’s trying to figure her out. Guilt creeps back up her throat like bile, burning her from the inside. Ned has never lied to her, he wears his emotions in his face ready to give all away, and she feels like the worst friend ever. 

He must get what he was looking for and talks again. "Cheer him. He is waiting for it, so cheer him on.”

She’s confused and the bad feeling in her chest stops her from copying the high-pitched and low-growl screams of support from her classmates until they are two minutes away from the end and somehow Eastwood is winning. For the first time in years, they are at real risk of losing. 

The clock has stopped after the last point scored by their rivals. Ned is giving her a look again, everyone around her is whispering lowly about Peter’s performance, —as if he is the only member of the team, the only one responsible for the results. _It’s a team sport people,_ she wants to scream.— The coach is holding him by the shoulders, pleading for one last effort, one last time using Parker’s magic. Peter looks down, nodding, and drifts his gaze back to her. 

How many times he has to look at her until she realizes that this isn’t about downgrading his game but about the way she became unreachable? Well, it seems like as many as he did today because the next thing she knows she’s standing and yelling his name over the hundred of voices that surround her.

“Parker! Hey, Peter! Parker!” It amazes her how quick his head turns to her, even if he was always looking, “You can do so much better than ok!”

She’s talking about the way he’s playing, but it feels like a comeback of his words that time in detention. Michelle hears a muffled whisper a row back coming from two girls that share Health class with them, —girl one can’t understand why she’s cheering him if they hate each other, girl two says its pent-up energy because they clearly like each other so much— she decides to ignore them when Peter’s face lights up with his classic arrogant smile. She wants to wipe it off so badly —maybe with kisses, but who cares.

When the team scores two more goals in the last minute Ned and her jump in the bleachers and hug, the cheerleaders run to the field to hug their friends before doing one of those crazy routines. Even Betty leaves behind all pretenses of professionalism and screams in the microphone causing a loud screeching that goes unnoticed by Midtown but seals the loose for Eastwood. 

* * *

  
  


Michelle is sitting on the floor of an empty room, big enough to hold her apartment inside, in front of a tall window that lets in all the light from the moon and the streetlamps. She took a bag of chips and a big cup of the red juice that some of her classmates were using to thin the burning liquid they decided to call vodka on the way here.

She learned a few things about parties during her few attendances. One, she’s not a fan of big crowds even when she knows the people there. Two, as soon as they get into any kind of space where it’s easy to get lost Ned will disappear following the halo of blond hair that belongs to Betty. Three, it feels nice to drop out of the blasting noise and crowded rooms that held parties, it thrills her, fainting out of thin air with no one noticing and then coming back the same way. Mysterious, unreachable. 

That’s what she aims for in life, and it’s working so great so far. 

Until the door creaks open.

The messy curls of one Peter Parker peak at the opening, eyes big with a faint flick of relief at seeing her and not one of the horny couples in the other rooms. You don't want to know how bad high school kids are at locking their goddamn door.

"Finally found you" he says with a sunshiny smile.

“Didn't know you were looking for me.” 

He throws a look at her way, something like _“you run from me the moment you saw me”_ kind of thing, but says nothing.

Michelle doesn't understand why he's not furious with her after what happen the other day but doesn't press. Peter just sits next to her and starts stealing from her chips bag. She pretends to swat his hand away but ends up extending the bag anyway, like a figurative olive branch he takes readily. He always seems to need so much food, it must take a lot of his resources, of his energy to be that gorgeous. She's sure that the soft stubble that's forming right up the angle of his jaw feels heavenly under the fingertips, that his chapped top lip scratches deliciously against other's skin. He deserves the food, he just won a football game after all.

"Good game, huh?" she says, trying to make small talk.  She sucks at it, when she speaks it has to have a purpose, a meaning, but she’s unfairly nervous right now. Peter snorts and humors her anyway.

They talked for a while, mostly about school, avoiding purposely the elephant in the room. They fill the spaces drinking her awfully sweet juice and making fun of the songs that throb through the walls of the house.

At one point Peter brings up their 'not fight, but something like that' again and all the mood shifts to something heavier and more dangerous. This time she feels prepared for this conversation, so she lets him.

"Did you mean it? What you said about being seeing with me?" Peter enquires.

She looks at him with raised eyebrows, gaze steady to show him how honest she's being when she replies, "No, I just got scared."

“I just wanted to dance with you.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s what people do in these parties,” she jokes.

“Ugh, MJ” he groans and throws his head back out of frustration. She always liked the way her nickname sounded in his voice. She always denied herself the pleasure. This time she lets him.

A sudden wave of bravery curse through her, and she pulls out her phone. “Say a number from one to five.”

“What?”

“A number Parker come on.”

“Three?”

She opens her playlist —one she specially designed after a particularly romantic book that left her wanting more— and touches the next button three times. Lucky him, the cords of her favourite song start to sound through the little phone speaker.

Michelle looks at the boy next to her expentantly. “So? Are you asking?”

He loses the confusion frown and the ghost of a smile starts to make its way behind his eyes. Peter stands up, and she accepts the hand he reachs out for help. 

She'll take it. The help, his hand, and whatever else he's offering. 

The room feels different the moment they step closer and start swinging side to side in a small irregular circle, narrower and dimmer somehow, but she has the sensation of freedom, and her eyes catch all the light that's reflecting on him. His shimmering eyes reminds her of the night sky in the country where she used to camp when she was little where everything seemed immense and beautiful, when she was scared of everything and nothing at the same time.

Peter sighs and his eyes close before leaning into her. For a moment she thinks he's going to kiss her again but instead his temple lies on her cheek, and she thinks somehow it's better. 

“This is what I wanted.” He says sincerely, his hand twitching with the fabric of her shirt nervously before adding. “Are you ok with this too?” 

“Yeah.” MJ barely recognizes the voice that sweeps through her lips, breathy, and low. But she is pretty sure it's something only reserved for him.

They keep moving well after the song ends, minds occupied with better things, more ground shattering things. Like the way Peter snuggles against her cheek every few cords, accommodating better and closer each time. Or how MJ pushes the hand that's not lightly but securely holding his up his arm to the back of his neck where she can caress with a tenderness that wasn't there those times they kiss before because she pushed it back so far in her head that she lost the chance, but not now. 

Time seems infinite, and she can't hold back the laugh that bubbles from her belly at such silly thought. Peter responds with a giggle of his own and gets far enough to look at her. He bumps her nose with her on the way, and she wants to cry because he did it before, he did it, and she took it for granted. 

She wants to tell him that she’s still scared, that she hates lying to her best friend and feels like this hiding thing is fun and exciting, but she wants to hold his hand in public too, she just feels like it’s too late now and all the bitter things are not as bitter as not being close to him.

Michelle can’t do it because suddenly the door is opening and Ned is standing in the doorway with a casually shocked expression and Betty holding his hand. 

She could jump away from Peter’s embrace and blame this unusual behaviour, —ok, it’s not unusual, but he does not know that— on alcohol or something like that. She doesn’t, but she speaks.

“We are together. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before.” Her words mingle on it’s rushed way out of her mouth.

Ned frowns, and she closes her eyes scared about what’s to come. Angry Ned must be one of those things that scare even the bravest person on earth. 

“Yeah, I know?” Ned says like if it's common knowledge. Maybe there’s a rumor running around, maybe someone saw them on one of the many times they kiss at school, maybe he knows since the first time it happened but he’s trying to prove their loyalty as best friends —they failed miserably if that’s the case. 

“Oh, I know too!” says Betty excitedly. So it’s a rumor then, shit! Or maybe…

“You told him?” MJ asks Peter, who starts shaking his head looking as confused as she is. 

“He didn’t. I figured it out. I’m your best friend, you think I didn’t know?” She tries to catch any glimpse of resentment in his tone but only finds amusement and something that looks an awful lot like cockiness. _Huh, so Peter’s personality is rubbing on him._

“How? I mean, why, why didn’t you say anything?” she stutters.

“Oh, you both are obvious, but I didn’t want to pressure you” 

“Obvious?”

“Yeah, I mean, he’s been flirting with you for so long now” “And you… well, when he’s in the room the only thing you do is look and fight him. When he’s not, you find a way to talk about him” 

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Petter adds, voice dripping with affection.

“That’s not true,” she tries in vain to deny. 

“Oh, it is. It’s like your own flirting brand.” Betty agrees and starts tugging on Ned’s hand, “I’m happy for you guys”

“Me too, love you” Ned replies and follows his girlfriend to a different room.

Michelle stands there, her brain doing its best to process what just happened. 

Her imagination went to so many scenarios over this situation. She's imagined all the terrible things that could happen, but never this. Why haven she thought that their friend would be his supportive self?

“Do you mind walking me home?” She braves falling out of her astonishment. 

He gazes her up and down her face. “Yes, let's go.”

His warm palm keeps locked with hers the whole walk. It helps to fight the chilly breeze that sweeps New York even at this time of the year.  They walk in silence, each lost in their heads but when Peter starts to swing their arms playfully a few blocks away from her apartment she snorts a laugh so loud that they can't stop grinning for the rest of the walk. 

Stopping at the front of her door is where the smiles vanish and their hands separate. A cold shiver courses through her body.

"This is you?" He asks knowing the answer. 

"Yeah.” 

“Oh, ok,” he looks down and starts biting his lip.

“Well, technically,” she starts. Peter's gaze snaps up, hope written all over his face, “my apartment is upstairs, so if you'd be a real gentleman you'd make sure I get there?” 

Her tone goes up with every world. It's a long haul, what she's doing. But she just confirmed that they are together to the only person they care about. The only reason to not do this is gone.

He says, “let's go then,” and they start their climb on the stairs.

Her building has a perfectly functional elevator, one that's checked every month and has security cameras, blighted silver buttons, and clean shiny mirrors. They take the stairs because it takes longer to get to the third floor that way. 

They are stretching time, and she’d love to be bolder, invite him in and spend the night kissing him or talking until they fall asleep on the couch. But her parents are sleeping inside, and she’s not ready for an awkward family introduction.

She does the next rational thing and kisses him against her front door until it starts to feel like too much and has to stop with a lingering kiss on his cheek. 

He’s smiling so big and bright, wonder struck, and blushed that she has to look away for a moment. 

“Are you letting me take you on a real date? Or I have to bribe you with promises of a new book like the last time,” Peter confidently asks. Her mind replays that time together in the bookstore. 

She mentally kicks herself for thinking it was about another girl. 

“We’ll see,” she shrugs and starts opening her door. 

“Can’t wait, MJ.” He says, walking backward in her hallway. She shushes him before closing the door. 

This time, as she lays down in bed with a dumbstruck smile, she thinks there's a lot of catching up to do again, but it's different from the first time. Now she knows it's not about the rumors, nor about hidden kisses or the fear of getting caught lying. This time it’s about them and no one else. 

  
  



End file.
